


don't forget the happy thoughts

by cattlaydee



Category: Hamilton - Miranda, Hook (1991)
Genre: Alexander Hamilton is Peter Pan, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Gen, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Unconventional retelling of Hook, bear with me folks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-13 06:00:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7965274
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cattlaydee/pseuds/cattlaydee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alexander Hamilton was an orphaned, 31 years old workaholic lawyer living in New York City, with his (mostly) happily married husband, rich & philanthropic [grand]mother-in-law, and a past that he does not remember, nor does he care to.</p><p>Until his husband disappears. And then, well. He doesn't really have much of a choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Christmas Eve in New York City

The lamplight was dim in Alexander Hamilton's office, casting shadows across the large oak desk he was crouched over, one hand in his hair as he read over what he had typed, and then retyped, again, and again, and again. So engrossed in the work, he didn't even look up when the door to his office swung open, and his boss stepped inside, a pinched, annoyed look on his face.

“What in the hell are you still doing here?”

Alex looked up with tired eyes to meet the man's glare with his own irritated glance. He leaned back away from his laptop with a sigh, closing his eyes against a growing headache that was the result of staring at the machine for so long.

“George,” he breathed, rubbing his face with his hands. “This should have gone out a week ago for review, the partners are gonna be pissed as hell if it’s not ready by the first quarter briefing…”

“I'm one of those partners, and that briefing isn’t for three weeks. Alexander, close your laptop. I’m half-tempted to confiscate it. It’s Christmas Eve, Alex, so i’m asking you again-why are you still here, at 7 pm, on what even is a Saturday, when you should be at home with your husband?”

It ended on a sharp, accusatory note, and Alexander’s frown hardened on his face. “ _Mister_ Washington. If you recall correctly, this is related to an incredibly important RICO depo that could put away a couple of incredibly dangerous men if we get it right, so excuse me for prioritizing…”

“You need to learn how to prioritize, Alex.” He stepped inside the office, closing the door behind him even though no one else was there. “You’ve been doing this a lot the past couple months. Is everything okay at home?”

The accusatory tone was gone, replaced instead with gentle understanding and concern. Alex was not in the mood for this. He growled, sitting up in his chair and saving whatever he'd been typing before slamming the laptop shut.

“You're probably right, I don't have time..."

“Alex. Come on, man.” Washington crossed his arms, leaning back against the door. “I know something has been stressing John out, I've seen it all over his face the past couple times I've seen him. Talk to me, dude.”

“It’s just…” _Nothing, Alex. It’s nothing_. “The hospital has just been crazy. And his grandma hasn’t been doing great but she’s okay, it’s nothing dire or anything, and…” _And we've been arguing more lately, about the future and about work, and about stupid, stupid **stuff**..._

He shook his head again. “You’re right. I gotta get home, he’s gonna be pissed.”

“Kid. I know that that's not all of it. I'm not your boss right now, I'm your friend."

"Don't call me kid."

"You know what I mean. I know something is bothering you."

"It's nothing!" He snapped, springing to his feet. "And if it is something, I obviously don't really want to talk about it, at least not right now. Work just helps me work stuff out sometimes."

"By avoiding your problems?" George raised an eyebrow, looking doubtful, and Alex stewed.

"John was at the hospital all day, anyway. It's fine." He reassured, looking pointedly at his boss. "John and I, we're fine."

George shook his head, restraining himself from tsking at his protege. "Go home, Alex. And no working remotely. That’s an order.” He opened the door to leave, looking back with something that stung like disappointment. “I was the best man at your wedding, dude. I really don't want to end up helping you litigate your divorce.”

He bristled at the mention of such a thing, and began to angrily pack up his bag for the night. George wasn't sure how Alex did such a thing, but he was quite good at sending a message without saying a word, shoulders compressed up tight and tense. George pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“Hey?”

“Yeah?” He snapped, his annoyance level about topping out. George fixed him with a pointed, warning look then rolled his eyes and relaxed.

“Say hey to Granny E for me tomorrow, alright? Pass on Martha and I's apology for not being able to make it.”

Alex softened at the mention of John’s grandmother, a woman who had basically raised the both of them. “Yeah. Yeah, I will.”

* * *

He arrived home by an Uber, fat snowflakes falling in the dim of nearby streetlights. He shifted his messenger bag on his shoulder, ducking his head with a sigh as he trudged toward their door. The streets had been empty for hours. He had no real excuse but as usual, John would understand.

He entered the home to warmth, and the scent of chicken, which his stomach reacted to with an enthusiastic growl. He realized quickly that he'd not eaten that day; he dropped the bag just inside the door, shrugging his coat off in the foyer and hanging it up before moving into the home.

"Babe?" A soft voice came from the kitchen and he followed it, along with scent of fresh food. John stood in front of the stove, a dishrag over his shoulder as he stirred something in the pot while it simmered. He tossed a soft, tired smile over his shoulder and Alexander placed a passing peck on his lips before leaning against their island counter and pushing himself up to sit on it.

"How was your day?" Alex began, not acknowledging the fact that it almost 8 pm at night. John shrugged, not looking back at him.

"It was fine."

"Just fine?" He was trying to tease him and work a smile onto his husband's face but the attempt fell flat. John shrugged once again and sighed, not turning around, still focusing on the food.

"Had a guy come in with a heart attack after trying to shovel his driveway, and we couldn't get him back. Old lady with a broken hip, slipped on some ice. Kid who got a snowball thrown at him with a rock in it, 10 stitches above the eye. I swear, other kids are mean, man..." He shook his head, stirring the sauce. "How about you?"

"I'm sorry about the guy." Alexander said softly, knowing that no amount of years of experience made it easier on John when he lost a patient. John shrugged once more, grabbing at the towel on his shoulder and turning around as he wiped his hands. He settled back against the counter next to the stove.

"Thanks. It just sucks even more, being the holidays and all, ya know?" He shook his head. "But really. How was your day?"

Alex sighed and ran a hand over his hair. "It was busy. Just so much crap I gotta straighten out with this, you know? And with the international ties, there so much other stuff I gotta review and get right. Genet and Clinton are so, so so dangerous, and we finally have the chance to get them and some of their key members put away for a long time, I just..."

"Sounds complicated."

"It is!" He exclaimed, then twisted his lips. "I'm sorry I even went in though. I know you got off early and I should have thought about you, with it being Christmas and everything."

"It's really alright, Alex. I ended up being late getting out of the ER. What are George and Martha doing for the holidays?"

"Patsy is off in Asia on assignment, I think, so Jacky is bringing the wife and kids and they're gonna do Christmas at their house. He seemed excited." He lifted himself up and off the counter and John turned back toward the stove at the sound of rapid boiling, lowering the heat and stirring once more. "You're really not mad at me?"

John's expression twisted, softened and he even chuckled. "You still leave me my favorite magazines, and you never forget what I like to eat at China Wok depending on how my day went. When you stop remembering stuff like that, well..." He shook his head. "Alexander. I know you're under a lot of stress with this particular case. And I know, the kid thing..." He shrugged again. "We're only in our early thirties. If it's not our time yet, then, it's not."

Alex slipped his hands around John's waist, shuffling closely behind him so his hips were flush against him as he stirred whatever was smelling so delicious in the pot in front of him. He nuzzled a soft spot in the crook of John's neck, planting a soft peck there before resting his chin on his shoulder. "I don't know if I deserve you."

With a small hum, John brought the wooden spoon up and held to Alex's lips, which he took easily. He closed his eyes, making a small noise.

"That is...that is fucking amazing."

"Pinterest." John replied with a grin. "Now get out of here, I gotta finish up. Maybe have a glass of wine after dinner and sit by the fire? Not too crazy, we gotta be up early for Gran's breakfast, and then the rest of Christmas. Jemmy and the family will be in town, and the boys are at that age where they're so much fun opening gifts."

The smile on his face made Alex ache a little inside. They'd always said they wanted to adopt. And they were going to, that was for sure. Alex didn't dislike the idea-he had always loved kids, had always wanted them with John; but raising kids was hard, and time consuming, and hours at the hospital were unpredictable, and the firm kept getting these high profile cases. Right now just wasn't right, but when he had made that point a few weeks ago, John had finally lost his temper and demanded to know, _would it ever be?_

And ever since then it'd felt...different, between them. He didn't think John was angry with him, or falling out of love, but there was a tension there that wasn't normally present. As if the fight hadn't really ended, but had merely been paused at that juncture.

"That'll be a lot of fun." He replied, not wanting to bring everything back up now. Instead, he walked over to their wine fridge and ducked down to take a look of their inventory. "Cab or Malbec?"

"Malbec will go better with the food. Should be ready in 5 or 10, if you want to change."

Alex hadn't even realized he was still in the work clothes, and he figured he could probably hop in the shower real quick and be out by the time John was setting their places. He pulled the red bottle of Argentinian wine from the rack and set it on the counter, walking by John again on his way out of the kitchen and pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. John smiled without looking up.

"I love you." Alex said softly, letting his fingers slide across John's back as he passed him on his way out of the kitchen. John said it back, the smile widening so his teeth shown and winked at him as he left to head upstairs to their room.

 _See,_ he thought to himself, relaxing just a little. _They were fine. They were going to be fine._

 


	2. A Christmas Brunch

On Christmas morning, they woke up early and took the train downtown to a large ballroom that had been decorated for the season. Giant poinsettia's and gold baubles hung from the ceiling and the tables were covered in creamy colored tablecloths. All around the perimeter of the dining area hung shiny garland and other sparkly things, decorating the walls and pillars lining the room. At the front of it all was a long table, seats situated behind it and in the middle, a podium. Alex and John took their spots together at a round table near the front of the room where folded cards sat, their names elaborately scrawled on them in black ink.  
  
Graham Windham had been founded 210 years ago and John's grandmother had been involved in it's operations long before he was born. When her only child, his mother, had passed in a car accident when he was five years old, she took him and his younger brother in and raised them herself, and then Alex had joined them when he was around 11 or 12. As far a John was concerned, her generosity was limitless and he loved and appreciated her for it.  
  
Eliza Schuyler Andre had been pillar of New York society all her life. Born in 1930, her father had been one of the only business men that did not lose everything in the depression and was able to invest wisely when the markets eventually turned back up. When he died in the war, everything was left to her in a trust and she eventually married a man from old money, his family dating back to before the Revolutionary War. Now in the twilight of her life, she raised money for the less fortunate in the city, spoke out against injustice and in favor of gender equality, and the very most favorite of all her philanthropic endeavors, helped run and supported a large family services and fostering organization.  
  
Even though they sat, others milled around them in large swaths. This wasn't anything special to John or Alex, they'd been coming since they were children and when John looked over at him, Alex took his hand in his and squeezed. They both really kind of hated these events; large groups of people they knew only in passing, impersonal interactions at best where they asked personal questions and always seemed to handle their relationship very awkwardly. Most of these people were older, rich and generally leaned conservative; people who could write a check to make themselves feel good about themselves and then never have to do anything again for another year. This was something they did for Eliza.  
  
"Alexander! John!" A woman done up in pearls, white hair piled tightly upon her head, slid over next to them and bent, planting a soft kiss to each other their cheeks. John winced; Alex just forced a smile.  
  
"Mrs. Shippen. How are you this morning? Merry Christmas!"  
  
"I'm wonderful, dear, just grand. And how are you boys doing? You look like you're doing well for yourself. Alexander, I just love your blazer!"  
  
John didn't take his eyes off his husband, and Alex fixed him with a blank stare, completely able to see the way his face twitched as he held back a laugh. Peggy Shippen was notorious for being ostentatious and gaudy, always sporting some large bauble or garish accessory. She pulled at the lapels of his jacket, smoothing her hands over the bright blue fabric, pointing out the colorful square handkerchief there. Alexander merely smiled and nodded until she turned her attention to his better half.  
  
"And John, how is the hospital these days?"  
  
"It's well, Mrs. Shippen, thank you for asking. How are your dogs?"  
  
"They're thriving! Mitzi is 13 years old, but you'd never know it with how she keeps up with the rest of them. My George tells me I need to not dote on them so much, but he doesn't understand how very dull his father can be sometimes..."  
  
Alexander turned his attention to his phone really quick, a few alerts from his work email lighting it up. He thumbed through them and rolled his eyes; an interesting looking JSTOR alert sandwiched between two emails from George. One had a subject line of " _You'd Better Not Be Seeing This Until 2017_ ", with the other saying something similar. He wondered if the man had set a schedule to send them automatically.  
  
He sighed as he locked it and slid it back onto the table. Mrs. Shippen was in the middle of saying goodbye to John, with a pat of acknowledgement on Alex's shoulder, before she slipped off to do the same thing at the next table. John looked back at Alex with a grin, bringing a hand up to his cheek to wipe off a light smudge left by the woman's lipstick.  
  
"I told you you should've given that jacket to Goodwill."  
  
Alex's ears burned. "You shut up."  
  


* * *

  
The table had ended up being more entertaining than he had expected.  
  
Ben Franklin had come with his newest girlfriend, even younger and more comely than the last, and they'd been seated next to Alex. He was a funny man of quick wit and a bawdy sense of humor, and had never patronized or seemed eager to use Alex and John as some kind of endorsement to make himself look enlightened, and both of them had always liked the man all the more for it.  
  
On John's side was John Adams, a man Alex was very much not a fan of, and his wife Abigail, an uptight couple who were very religious and a little boring. Watching them in the presence of Franklin, with his innuendos and hilariously placed one liners, was something Alex was sure would keep him entertained for days to come.  
  
As the breakfast was served, he looked over at where Eliza sat close to the podium, engrossed in conversation with the woman at her side. He smiled softly to see her; at 86, she was still thriving, aside from the occasional ailment. Her place in his life had been enigmatic; whereas for John, she was very much a matriarchal figure, Eliza existed to him as more of a friend, or a confidant. Sometimes, when she looked at him, he would feel very uneasy in her presence, as if she were remembering something he couldn't quite understand, as if there was an inside joke between them he'd forgotten.  
  
Sometimes, she looked at him with a fondness that made his chest tight.  
  
When the speeches had ended and the guests had begun to filter out, John had gotten up to go to the bathroom and left him alone when he felt someone come up behind him and he smiled when he turned.  
  
There she was, long gray hair done up in a french twist, and a soft, bluish green dress that skimmed the ground. She had black gloves up to her elbows, hands held in front of her, and a stole that rested on her arms. A pearl necklace hung on her neck, diamond earrings dangling from her lobes. She smiled softly. "Hello, boy."  
  
"Eliza," He breathed and he stepped forward, engulfing her in a hug. "It's so good to see you. I'm sorry I haven't been at the last few dinners..."  
  
She waved him off. It had become some kind of ritual, for her and John and Alex to go somewhere nice in the city, or at her town-home on the Upper East Side, but he had been so busy with work and had had to bail mostly at the last minute, an occurrence that had not helped the stress between he and John. She grasped at his forearms, then brought a hand up to his face as she looked at him.  
  
"How are you, my dear? Have you been sleeping alright? Johnny tells me you've been working on a very important case."  
  
"It's kept me busy for sure, but I am sorry to have missed so many dinners. How are you feeling, Gran? John told me your hip has been bugging you lately."  
  
The smile faded a bit and she lowered her hand, settling them back in front of her once more. "Oh, it's alright. Just one of those things that happen with age. Where has John gone off to, anyway? I would like to leave soon. Jemmy and Deb and the children stayed at home, they didn't want to bring the boys to such a thing, and I'm sure..."  
  
"Gran?"  
  
"There you are!" She exclaimed, and the smile returned, stepping to the side next to Alex and accepting a hug from John, placing kisses on his cheeks as well when they pulled apart. She looked between the men, now resting a hand on each of their arms.  
  
"I have to still mingle while we wrap up, but if you would like, head to the house and see your brother and the boys. We'll catch up after presents. If I had to guess, the little ones are probably tearing the house apart by this point."  
  


* * *

  
They took an Uber Black to the where Eliza lived, a beautiful town-home that had been in the Schuyler family since they'd begun to make their fortune during the 19th century. Outside, the windows were long and thin, with marble frames that were carved in wavy patterns, surrounded by brick on all of the sides, and a huge stone walk-up to a glass pane door. Alex stepped out of the car first, offering a hand to his husband and pulling him out. They had had the gifts sent over earlier that morning, and so it was just the two of them, standing on the sidewalk as the car drove off. John shivered in the cold. It was a clear day, the sun high in the sky but with snow underfoot. He looked up at the town-home and grinned, and Alex couldn't help it for the way he looked in the sunlight-he pulled him close quickly for a kiss, almost causing him to slip on the slick concrete underneath.  
  
"Alex!" John laughed, grasping at his arms to steady himself. Alex wrapped his arms around his neck, pressing close to his husband.  
  
"I don't think I've said it yet this morning, but Merry Christmas."  
  
"You've been in a good mood today." John observed, maybe even a little skeptically, but he grabbed Alex's hand and began to walk towards the front of the home.  
  
"It's Christmas."  
  
"MmHmm."  
  
The warmth of the inside of the home was a relief, and as they stepped through the threshold, the scent of pine and cinnamon invaded their senses and within a few moments, the excited shrieks of their two nephews filled the lower half of the home.  
  
"UNCLE JOHN, UNCLE ALEX! COME AND SEE WHAT SANTA BROUGHT US!"  
  
Alex was barely able to grab John's jacket from him when the boys swarmed. He let the children take him, hanging back with both their coats and John threw him a withering glance as they pulled him into the sitting room where an elaborately decorated tree stood, full of presents at it's base, and treats, and other pretty things. Alex stayed quiet, watching them go with a half smile, and took his time to hang up the garments and just enjoy the silence.  
  
"Alexander, hello!" Deb Laurens swept into the entryway suddenly, two chalices of what looked to be orange juice in her hand. She offered one to him, and he took it, and upon sipping at it, realized it wasn't quite just orange juice.  
  
"Oh Deb. You know me. Too well."  
  
"I assumed you'd probably had one or two mimosa's already, so I made sure there were some ready for when you guys got here." She winked at him. "Where's John?"  
  
"The boys already abducted him. Apparently, the pull is great this year."  
  
"When is it not?"  
  
The day passed in a whirlwind of wrapping paper and excited screams. Alex and John took a nap in an oversized armchair shortly after gifts had been opened and the boys were well occupied with one of their new toys, most of which blinked, or whizzed, or took actual flight.  
  
When Alex awoke sometime in the late afternoon, the sitting room had been abandoned, save for the two of them. The scent of roast beef filled the home from the kitchen, and looking his phone, anticipated dinner would probably be in the next hour or so, and he decided to rise and explore a little while it was still relatively peaceful.  
  
He straightened up, wincing at how his knees cracked and his back ached, and shifted John softly to the other side of the chair. His husband was curled up into himself loosely, and he snuggled back into the corner of the armchair with a sigh and a twitch of his nose. Alex smiled at the sight and pulled an afghan from the back of the chair, laying it over him before rising and heading up to the second floor of the home to use the bathroom.  
  
After he finished, he washed his hands and splashed some water on his face and around his neck. It had been such a long morning, and they hadn't gone to bed as early as they wanted to the night before, hence the nap. He stared into the mirror with a sigh. Dark, puffy circles rested under his eyes, and he was starting to see the stray gray hairs sprout here and there across his scalp. He was getting old.  
  
Where had time gone? He looked around the bathroom, at the large, claw footed tub under the long, privacy glassed window, to the ornate vanity and the lights that hung over it. He walked out of the bathroom and took an ever familiar path to the bedroom he once shared with John and Jem.  
  
When he pushed the door open, he was met with a sight that was different than when he'd first come to live with Eliza. He remembered four small twin sized beds, and a window at the center of the room on the wall that led out to a balcony. Now, there was a king sized, four poster bed, the walls a dark shade of green with gold trimmings, with boring old paintings of members of the Schuyler and Andre families adorning the walls.  
  
And one he didn't quite recognize.  
  
It was a painting of a landscape, really, but one he couldn't name; rolling hills and something like mountainous peaks, a large body of water dotted with ships and buildings. Stars upon stars painted yellow in the black sky of the painting, and two moons...  
  
"When was the last time you slept here, you think?" A soft voice broke him from what felt like a spell, and he spun toward the doorway where Eliza stood, now in more comfortable attire, some loose linen pants and a t-shirt. She was smiling at him, watching him walk throughout the room, and after he was over being startled, he smiled.  
  
"Awhile." He admitted with a nod, looking around. "Can't believe John and I grew up here. Jemmy too. It seems like it was so long ago, but..." He trailed off, his eyes suddenly turning toward the window. "It seems so...important."  
  
"I grew up in this room too, you know." She told him, walking further into the room, resting a hand on one of the posts. "So many things happened in this room. I painted this, you know." She gestured toward the landscape he'd been looking at, and Alex looked at her in surprise, before looking back at the painting and then at her once more.  
  
"What? Since when?"  
  
"Since always." She teased. "There are things you don't know about me. We all have our secrets, Alexander." She watched him for a moment, and when he said nothing in return, she walked closer to him. "Are you sure you're alright, Alex?"  
  
Her tone was low, and soothing, and he felt her hands cup his face and he closed his eyes. He was tired, and stressed out, and a little worried. George's words came back to him from the night before. He shook his head, bringing his own hands up to rest on hers.  
  
"I'm fine, Gran." He lowered both of their arms to their waist level, hands clasped in the space between them. "Just been busy at work. I think John's been...a little frustrated. But once the trial starts, I think it'll let up a bit."  
  
She studied him for a moment and nodded. "Relationships are hard sometimes, Alex. But you shouldn't stress out about it. John knows you love him. And he loves you. Everything will be fine."  
  
That was much easier said than done, and he had to wonder if John had said something to her. It wasn't her way to get in the middle of anything, so he would never know; still, he found her words to be somewhat reassuring.  
  
"Thanks Gran. I appreciate it." He nodded his head toward the doorway. "We should probably get downstairs soon. I think dinner was close to being ready. I just wanted to..." He trailed off, and smiled shyly. "Nostalgia, you know."  
  
"I do know." She pulled his head down and placed a kiss on his forehead before tugging on his hand. "Come on, you're right. Let's go get everyone settled so we can get started. If we can get the boys to go down a little early, maybe the grown ups can have a night cap, eh?" She winked at him and he smiled as he watched her lead him from the room, eagerly announcing the meal as she descended from the stairs. He could hear the boys below squeal, could hear John's sleepy tone and could tell he was smiling. Eliza remained as she always had, the constant of their family, the centrifugal force pulling them all together as they started to drift away. He smiled down at the scene as she made her way to the landing, herding the small group into the dining room, throwing a smile back up to him before following the four or five other members of the family.  
  
He'd missed her so much.

* * *

  
John didn't talk to him the whole way home. He had sat far away from him in the car and had stared out the window the whole time, and when they'd gotten back to their building, had started for the door without a word.  
  
Dinner had gone...alright. It had been going great, until his phone had dinged a few times and he'd seen text alerts sent from a secure number with words that were only code for being related to the case he'd been working, and he had excused himself under the guise of going to the bathroom, and stayed in the study too long, which is where John had found him, bent over a laptop on Google. Nothing had been said explicitly, but John had turned icy, and even through that nightcap that Eliza had mentioned, he had known that the discussion once they'd left the house would be an unpleasant one.  
  
"Can we not do this tonight?" Alex asked softly, which earned him a soft shake of the head and an eye-roll. "Aw, come on, John, don't be like this..."  
  
"How about you just go finish what you were working on earlier, and I head up to bed, and we discuss it when we have the time?"  
  
"I don't want you to go to bed mad at me."  
  
"I'm not mad."  
  
"Could've fooled me."  
  
John unfurled his scarf from around his neck in short, punctuated movements that made Alex stand back. He watched as his husband hung up his things on the coat hook and kicked off his shoes and headed into the kitchen. With a sigh, he did the same, albeit with less urgency, and followed. John had begun to brew a small pot of coffee; there was only one mug on the counter.  
  
"Can I get one of those too?"  
  
John didn't look at him, but took a mug from the cabinet and put it next to the pot of coffee. They stood in silence as the drink percolated. Once it had finished, he poured himself a glass, then one for Alex, and he leaned against their stove and sighed.  
  
"The day was going so well, Alex. The breakfast and family stuff, the whole Christmas, thing, and dinner was going well, and you just...get up and wander off like that? Why, do you do this? You can't just enjoy the couple of days that we both have off? You can't just dive into this when I go back to the hospital on Tuesday?"  
  
"I got an text from one of our contacts. I have a responsibility to them, especially when we're dealing with the kinds of people we deal with. This is legitimately life or death stuff here, you realize that right?"  
  
"Yeah, no, I get it, Alex. Your job is important, more important than anything else."  
  
Alex half sighed, half growled. "I didn't _say_ that...."  
  
"You never would, but it feels like that's how you think. For once, it would be nice to feel like we were at least somewhat a priority in your life. I know you work hard, I work hard to, and I appreciate it. I can understand it's important to you, and why, but I don't think the whole world is gonna fall apart if Alexander Hamilton doesn't come to the rescue right away."  
  
"I spent the whole day with everyone, I didn't send _one_ email..."  
  
"How gracious of you."  
  
"Dammit, John. What do you want from me then?"  
  
"I want you to fucking listen to me!" It was rare for John to lose his temper, but right now, he was seething. "Everything that we've been talking about the last few weeks, I know you think it's the things themselves, but it's not. I get work gets hectic; I get that timing for certain things isn't ideal. I get all of that. But you don't listen, you won't talk to me about it; you make your argument and then you shut down and it doesn't feel like you're receptive or that you consider anything I have to say. How are we supposed to work through stuff if you won't even do that?"  
  
"We have talked about everything. We _always_ talk about everything. Sometimes it feels like that's all we ever do."  
  
"So why does it feel like we're stuck?" John's eyebrows raise, his expression pointed. "I know you're brilliant. It's one of the things I love the most about you. But you're not the only person in this relationship, and it would be nice if sometimes, you appreciated me like that as well."  
  
"John," He replied weakly, his hands held up in a supplicating gesture. "You have to know how much I admire you. I value what you bring to this. You have to know that."  
  
"It would be nice to feel it once in awhile. Cause, I gotta be honest Alex, lately, it kind of feels like you're running this show and ignoring my piece, and I'm not completely okay with that." He rubbed at his face with a loud sigh. "I'm tired. I'm gonna head up to bed. Whenever you get done with your stuff, I guess I'll see you." He paused, looking up at him and setting his half full mug down on the counter. John walked over and placed his hands on his waist. "I love you, Alex. There's no one else I'd rather work through stuff like this with. But I need to feel like you're present here too."  
  
Alex didn't know what to say to that, having felt like he'd tried to sell that point and failed, so he just watched John retreat up the stairs to their room. Instead, he stormed over to the small study off the living room and gone inside to close the door. It wasn't really that late-only a little after 10 pm, and he wasn't very tired, so he lifted his work laptop from his bag, ignoring whatever George had said to him the night before and began to work.  
  
Before he knew it, he had fallen asleep.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i've never written a crack fic before, so we're gonna see how this goes. It is the result of a late night, post drinking movie watch of Hook (which I love so very much) and as Hamilton always seems to be running in the back of my mind, this came to be. i write so much serious, angst stuff usually and have been looking for an opportunity to write something that was more light and fun, and this is meant to be that...although there will be serious parts.
> 
> title is from the song "same drugs" by Chance the Rapper-it has some Hook allegory in there, and it's kind of why I turned the movie on.
> 
> come visit me at [tumblr](http://cattlaydee.tumblr.com)


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